


stolen thunder

by SwingBallBlues



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angry Kissing, Angst, Break Up, Cigarettes, Coffee Shops, Crime Scenes, Different Story Every Chapter, Drabble Collection, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Gun Violence, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush, Sex Talk, Trust Issues, i'll post whatever comes to mind, inspired by movies and songs, showho, showho smoking, sin is allowed, tagging this as mature because my showho thoughts are always r rated, very sad, wonho has kinks, wonho is shy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwingBallBlues/pseuds/SwingBallBlues
Summary: this is a showho dump where i write shownu x wonho in various alternate universes as different people/characters. inspirations are taken from books, songs, and movies. in this house we support hyung line!





	1. Metastasized

**Author's Note:**

> ~~be advised that i don't really know how to do this~~

“I am incredibly unhappy,” Hoseok admits, his eyes moist. 

 

Hyunwoo is grabbing him by the arm, unyielding. “You don’t mean that,” he says, and then he drags him closer, “We’re happy. We’re okay.”

 

The tears fall when Hoseok lowers his gaze. “We’re not okay. You don’t love me anymore.”

 

Only then Hyunwoo lets go, as if the touch had burned. He never doubted himself until now.

 

“I do.”

 

Hoseok blinks the tears away. “I don’t love you anymore,” he’s shaking, but he doesn’t falter.

 

Hyunwoo’s not surprised, not really. But the affirmation still makes him angry, somehow. “Why are you lying? What is this?”

 

“You deserve better—“

 

“Don’t,” he raises a finger, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

 

Hoseok looks alarmed, his field of vision focusing on the older through the dampness. “We fight all the time, Hyunwoo, I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“But that’s what couples do,” Hyunwoo reasons, “We argue and then we sort it out. We talk. We make it work.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Hoseok is quick to rebuff him. “It’s like you fucking hate me. You just shut me out and leave. And then you come back and kiss me and we have sex and forget all about it. That’s not how this works.”

 

Hyunwoo doesn’t want to think back to it, doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “Stop it. Stop what you’re doing.”

 

But Hoseok isn’t quite done yet. With bitten lip, he claims, “You hurt me so I hurt you. I cheated on you.”

 

He did. Hyunwoo still remembers all of it, can recall each and every detail like it was yesterday. The guy had been a little taller, and so much prettier. He was the antithesis of everything Hyunwoo had been, and Hyunwoo wondered if it was what Hoseok wanted all along.

 

“I forgave you.”

 

“You never did. And you shouldn’t,” Hoseok’s face is steaming red, like it always is whenever he’s stifled by his own emotions. Hyunwoo knows it’s because he knew too much.

 

Hyunwoo balls his fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh. He’s tired of this, tired of talking and denying, tired of seeing the pain in Hoseok’s eyes, tired of having to vindicate his own words.

 

“Did you mean it when you said you don’t love me anymore?”

 

That was going to be it. Hyunwoo isn’t about to beg on his knees.

 

Hoseok looks at him for a long time, searching his eyes, before nodding. “I also meant it when I said you’re not in love with me.”

 

Hyunwoo tries to pinpoint the moment it all went wrong. 4 years of dating, was it even worth it? 

 

“So this is where I leave you,” Hyunwoo says. When he looks at Hoseok he realizes that Hoseok was right; it’s not love. It’s distance and regret. It couldn’t have ended differently. 

 

He walks up to him, slowly, their eyes locking but muted. He touches Hoseok’s face and instantly the younger’s lids flutter close. He kisses him, more tongue than lips, and it’s so easy. Hoseok is weak for him, his skin hot where it’s touching Hyunwoo’s. Hyunwoo breaks the kiss to jerk his head, prompting him to pry his eyes open. 

 

The aversion is gone, only lust. He’s won. Hoseok lets his jaw fall and Hyunwoo gathers his own saliva before spitting it out into Hoseok’s docile mouth, dipping down to lick his tongue and kiss him again. 

 

Hoseok moans. Hyunwoo tears himself away from the clinging arms, the confusion and humiliation in Hoseok’s expressions meeting him.

 

“Damn you, Shin Hoseok,” and then he leaves.


	2. Gold Standard

"Did you hear what they say about us?"

 

Hyunwoo looks up from his reading, interest piqued. " _They_ say a lot of things about us," he closes the book, "What is it this time?"

 

Hoseok pointedly stares at an invisible spot above Hyunwoo's eyes. "They say we never talk."

 

Hyunwoo's chuckle is instant and warm, like a surprise hug. "That's ridiculous. We're talking _now_."

 

Hoseok all but huffs. "We never do. Not really."

 

Hyunwoo tilts his head, searching Hoseok's eyes. "You're not much of a talker, are you? And neither am I."

 

The rationale is simple, but it's not good enough for Hoseok. "I talk a lot with the others. You know I do."

 

Hyunwoo cracks another harmless smile. "And you know exactly why," he beckons Hoseok closer, "I don't want to start idle conversations out of courtesy. We're beyond that."

 

Hoseok sits himself snug beside Hyunwoo, their shoulders and thighs touching. "I just," he starts, pouting, "I don't know if you're comfortable with the silence. I feel awkward."

 

Hyunwoo throws him a stunned look. "You don't know if _I'm_ comfortable with it? Isn't it plain as day? I like our silence. We don't need to talk if we have nothing to talk about," he squeezes Hoseok's thigh.

 

It's Hoseok's turn to laugh, short and cynical. "There's always something to talk about," he turns to face Hyunwoo, prompting the other to do the same, "Talk to me. About anything. We're supposed to be the closest, aren't we? Tell me about whatever stupid thing that crosses your mind. I like your voice, use it more _on_ me."

 

Hyunwoo blinks. Hoseok is dead serious.

 

"Is that what you want?"

 

Hoseok nods, his lip bitten. 

 

Hyunwoo takes his hand, kissing the knuckles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," he murmurs against the skin, and hears Hoseok sigh, "You're very special to me, Hoseok, you're my only friend. The things I talk to you about, some of them are secrets only you know."

 

Hoseok is silent for a while, registering the words, letting Hyunwoo play with his hand until he mutters, "Now I feel like a dick."

 

Hyunwoo laughs, his eyes scrunching up. "No you're not. I need to clarify, though, you _do_ talk to me a lot, in bed."

 

Hoseok yanks his hand away, scandalized, his cheeks reddening. "That's not talking!"

 

"More like screaming," he taunts, "And begging."

 

"I hate you," Hoseok scoots away from the older.

 

"What? You love it when I degrade you in bed. You came once just from it," Hyunwoo offers, grabbing Hoseok's arm to stop him from leaving.

 

"Shut up!"

 

"Funny, you just asked me to talk mo—"

 

And then Hoseok is kissing him, his tongue darting out to wet Hyunwoo's lips, both men groaning into the kiss. No more talking needed then.

 

 


	3. Tired, Baby, Tired

This is not the life Hoseok had imagined himself leading. This was in the movies, garish and rowdy and everything he ever wanted. 

Quitting school because it wasn't going anywhere, he had everything ahead figured out. Shit job; the gym, or maybe a car wash. He knew he was good looking so he'd get hired in retail right away. Scrimp and save. Picking up girls too young for him at the bar, not remembering their names because what difference does it make? Smoke it all away because he was bound for a career in disappointment. 

People say life is funny, and while it is often so it's also very, very _cruel_. Because somewhere along the way, somewhere between the dullness and the pointlessness of it, he met Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo smiled a lot, carried himself well, and always smelled nice. Biceps for days. Read books about neuropharmacology even though he said he was a delegate for the labor union. First night, he took Hoseok back to his place because he claimed the night view was unbeatable. Later into the evening, he took Hoseok to his bed after telling the younger that he wasn't lonely. Not really.

Hyunwoo was anything you want him to be, and rich. You could tell from his clothes, from the way he talked. He didn't come from money, he said, he worked hard for it. Yet he never told Hoseok what kind of business he was in exactly, what he did. He'd go away for some time, longer than any delegate would, coming back steely-eyed with presents to keep Hoseok happy. And Hoseok was, undeniably, but he wasn't stupid. Because money, no money, would never be enough. For the first time, he was angry, desperate to ascertain the truth.

But the truth wasn't at all like he expected. 

He'd thought maybe Hyunwoo was married, had a little baby somewhere out of town. Maybe his wife missed him. Maybe Hoseok was a quick, cheap fuck.

But that wasn't true; Hyunwoo was perfect, and his, his only. 

What he was, and what he did, though, was straight out of a comic book. Perhaps he said something else, something more polished and less absurd, but Hyunwoo kept going on about managing clubs and dealing drugs and something about _the family_ , and Hoseok could only process so much.

"What, like, a gangster?" he cringed in disdain.

"You don't believe me," Hyunwoo said, unsurprised.

"Come on, you must think I'm an idiot," Hoseok snickered.

"How much money do you think a union delegate makes?"

Hoseok didn't consider it. "Enough."

"No, _not_ enough. Not with this lifestyle," he gestured between them, the shiniest part of his Swiss wristwatch reflecting the lamplight.

Clearly not even close.

"Wait, wait, I'm not following you," Hoseok shook his head, "You're saying, you could do time for this? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, Hoseok, only the stupid guys go to jail. I'm not stupid," Hyunwoo declared assuredly.

"Is it dangerous? Like, you ever killed anyone?"

Hyunwoo sighed, and Hoseok understood then how heavy all this was.

"Would the answer change what you think of me?"

"No," Hoseok said, impetuous.

"It's complicated," Hyunwoo reasoned, shrugging. "I just wanna know if you're in for the ride."

Hoseok had an idea of how these dreams end. He'd seen Hollywood movies about it. Documentaries. Gunfires, blood-filled shoes, a dingy emergency room at 3AM, crying and screaming because everybody knew better than to get involved. 

"I'm sorry I'm not what you thought I was," Hyunwoo muttered, holding Hoseok's hands with his. "You can leave, now, and I'll understand. If you think you're not cut out for it, you can walk away, and it's okay," he looked at him with a foreign apprehension and sadness in his eyes, one that Hoseok never wished to see again.

Hoseok knew better. He wasn't stupid, but life with Hyunwoo so far outclassed the one without. And he was very much in love. 

A crooked grin formed in Hoseok's lips. He looped his arms around Hyunwoo's neck to draw him in for a kiss. "Baby, I'm in all the way. For me, the sun rises and sets with you."

Hyunwoo blushed, just a little, and then kissed Hoseok with those luscious lips of his. No questioning, no dilly-dallying. Kissing him, embracing him, making love to him because it told Hoseok more than Hyunwoo's words ever could. 

And there they were, impervious to the world outside their own. 

Two years, four. They were too sure, too distracted. Hyunwoo's friends became Hoseok's and he made a name of his own, _the party boy_ , and this was everything he ever wanted. The balls, the booze, the attention, the envy. Women loved him, dirty men wanted to have a way with him in the restroom. Hyunwoo was wealthier, busier, but managed to keep him happy by fucking him daily and giving him unlimited access to the candy. Life was fast, then, and that's when it went wrong.

The first time Hyunwoo ever handed Hoseok a firearm, he said it was for "safety precaution". Hoseok didn't buy that at all. Hyunwoo had a look on his face, the same one he had when he was sure Hoseok was leaving him, many years ago. This was _bad_ , and Hoseok could only imagine to what extent.

Soon Hyunwoo began talking about running away, about leaving everything behind. He talked about beaches and the ocean and banana daiquiris and they didn't make sense, none of it, not one bit.

"Honey, can you handle it?" Hoseok asked, his hands on either side of Hyunwoo's face so he could read his eyes.

The veins on Hyunwoo's temples were protruding, he noticed, and that only ever happened when he was stressed out. This was not looking good, and it scared Hoseok a little.

"Yeah, of course, yeah," Hyunwoo fixed an unconvincing smile. "I got everything set up, we're ready. Don't worry, baby," he pecked Hoseok on the lips and quickly walked away. Hyunwoo wasn't sure of himself, and neither was Hoseok.

They would leave on a midnight train to Busan, catch a plane there and fly off somewhere, leave the country. It's all planned. That's how it was supposed to go. 

Hoseok packed lightly. After all, he didn't need much. As long as Hyunwoo was with him, he didn't need much. He went to the station first, as instructed, waiting on Hyunwoo by the platform. He couldn't sit still so he stood there and paced, his bags with him, his hand clutching a phone that kept going unanswered. _You can't miss the train_ , Hyunwoo said, _I need to take care of some things before we leave. Wait for me there and don't miss the train_.

The cars were there. He'd need to board soon. Hyunwoo was nowhere to be seen, but he'd promised. He'd promised and he'd never broken one, so Hoseok waited, and waited, and told a crew member of the train that he's waiting for his husband.

"He's coming," he said, "Please hold it just a little bit more."

And then, down the stairs to his far right, he saw him. _Finally_. Hyunwoo was right there, running toward him, smiling in relief because he could see the one on Hoseok's face. This would be over soon. They were leaving, at last. Hoseok reached out to him, calling his name, hopping up and down in glee until he realized someone was running after Hyunwoo. Someone, no, three men. Four. Each one of them had what seemed to be guns in their dominant hands, and they were all chasing him, his Hyunwoo, and he couldn't warn him, it was as if the very sight itself had knocked every wisp of air from his lungs, and he just stood there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything.

Hyunwoo's eyes rolled up before the gunshots reached Hoseok's ears. 

Like sunshine, they were ubiquitous. He could hear people screaming, scurrying away in panic, but for some reason his throat ached and his eardrums rang and maybe he was screaming himself too. He didn't care, he wasn't afraid, all he had in mind was he needed to catch Hyunwoo's fall and _oh_ —

Hyunwoo hit the floor with a thud, and Hoseok saw him coughing up blood and _Please_ , he choked out, _Not my baby, please_.

He held him by the crown of his head, and Hyunwoo looked so sleepy, like he was dozing off; Hoseok's tears dripping onto his face were the only thing keeping him alert. 

"You promised me," Hoseok rasped, "You can't leave me like this, you fuck," he tried to wipe away the blood but his fingers were jumping rhythmically, as if in spasm, and he ended up smearing the red across Hyunwoo's cheek. Hyunwoo said nothing, just looking up at him with his warm, chocolate eyes, blinking lazily. Slowly. Too slow.

Hoseok had no idea how much time had passed until the EMT's arrived and carried Hyunwoo away. 

And here he is, now, sitting on a plastic chair in front of Seoul St. Mary's emergency room, crying like an idiot. Maybe he just watched Hyunwoo die. Maybe not. Emergency rooms never save anybody, at least not at 1 in the morning, that's for sure. He has blood that's not his own drying on his clothes and face and hands and no one is there to tell him ' _It's okay_ '. Even if there was, any form of solace spewing out of their mouth would be utter, complete, bullshit. 

Hoseok has a life before Hyunwoo. Sitting here, looking back, he can only remember hating himself day in-day out, clinging to that one reason he had to go on; the notion that it would get better. And it did, with Hyunwoo, so it appears that he's run out of objective. There's no point anymore. It's never going to get any better than it did. That was it. 

While he never imagined this was to be the life he'd be leading, he doesn't need to imagine how it ends, not anymore. He still has the loaded .38 Smith & Wesson Hyunwoo gave him in his inner jacket pocket, and he has a very good idea on how he's going to empty it.


	4. Moon Hung Over Earth

The man’s forehead was creased when Hoseok swayed past him, his eyes moving left to right across the book in his hands.

 

A cigarette packet lied on the floor next to his shoes, and Hoseok picked it up. Very light, more than half empty.

 

“Excuse me,” he began, and immediately the reading man looked up at him, rather surprised. “I think you dropped this,” he offered the little box in question.

 

The man’s smile was instantaneous. “Ah, yes, thank you.”

 

Their fingers brushed and Hoseok’s lips twitched at the sudden electric jerk, but the other man didn’t seem to acknowledge it. Hoseok nodded and walked away.

 

A few deliberately lazy steps later, the smell of tobacco filled his nose. Turning around, he saw that the reading man now had a lit cigarette perched between two fingers on his right hand, puffs of smoke circling his seated figure.

 

Hoseok wasn’t a smoker, but he remembered to buy the reading man’s cigarette brand as he was walking home. His mouth was itching to find out what the man tasted like.

 

Hoseok also remembered the name scribbled boldly on the man’s coffee cup. _Hyunwoo_.

 

Hyunwoo was bitter and full and warm, he tickled Hoseok’s throat and smothered Hoseok’s lungs, and Hoseok was high through every second of it.

 

He finished his first ever cigarette feeling lightheaded and aroused. He went on to fuck himself on every toy he had with a stranger’s name on his lips. 

 

Little did he know, the reading man himself was already planning to go back to the same coffee shop in the morning, same spot, same order. Because only from his table he could have a clear, unobstructed view of the attractive barista he’d been eyeing the whole day, a redhead donning a name tag that read “ _ **Hoseok**_ ”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m still alive and so is this fic!


End file.
